Chapter 1470: Thank You

Chapter 1470: Chapter 1470: Thank You

"I don’t like seeing you in a white coat!" Sophie Wilson sniffled and muttered.

Charles Seymour let out a low laugh. "It’s fine. With you by my side, I stopped caring about the past a long time ago."

He remembered how, back when they were in that illegal company, he’d told Sophie about his childhood.

How his own mother had forced him to study medicine, and in the end, even after she died, he still tormented himself by obsessively studying it.

You could say his medical skills were very good, but he was the person who least liked touching anything related to medicine.

"Mm." Sophie Wilson wrapped her arms around Charles Seymour’s lean waist and murmured, "From now on, I’ll be the one who aches for you."

"Okay." Charles Seymour’s gaze softened until it seemed like water would spill out of it. With Sophie here, what did anything else even matter?

Besides, it was all in the past. After he had Sophie, he no longer felt that medicine was something he hated and that tortured him.

He even felt grateful—thankfully his skills were strong enough for him to get into that illegal company and meet Sophie.

And thankfully he was good enough to finally treat Sophie and get her well.

It turned out those ten-plus years of medical study had all been leading to meeting Sophie, so he could keep her by his side, safe and sound.

"Let’s go over. They’re probably getting anxious." Sophie Wilson hugged Charles Seymour and, a little embarrassed, rubbed at her eyes.

Just now she really hadn’t been able to control it; the tears had just fallen.

Charles Seymour had Sophie go rest in the lounge for a bit, while he himself headed toward the office.

After Charles Seymour went in, he glanced at Richard Roscente.

Frederick Cole immediately began making introductions. "This is Richard Roscente, Elder Roscente’s son. And this is Dr. Seymour."

At a time like this, there were no other identities—only doctor and patient’s family.

"Dr. Seymour, thank you for being my father’s lead surgeon." Richard Roscente said gratefully.

His father’s condition had left this usually tough man looking noticeably more haggard.

No matter how tough someone is, there’s always a soft spot in their heart—that soft spot is the person they care about most.

"Mm." Charles Seymour gave a slight nod and began explaining the patient’s condition to Richard Roscente.

He didn’t use any medical jargon. Instead, he described it in the simplest, clearest terms: "...If nothing unexpected happens and he recuperates properly, there is a certain chance that he can return to a relatively normal life."

Hearing this, Richard Roscente’s expression turned heavy as he asked, "So my father’s body can’t recover to how it was before?"

"Have you ever seen a body that’s been overdrawn recover to the same state as one that’s never been damaged?" Charles Seymour asked calmly. "Even among top experts, after they’ve pushed themselves too far, they’re left with hidden injuries. They might not show at the time, but a few years later, they still affect the body."

"How many people who’ve gone on missions from the training camp and then retired ended up without any lingering pain?" Charles Seymour’s words made Richard Roscente furrow his brows. He muttered, "I’m afraid my father won’t be able to accept spending the rest of his life lying in bed."

"He can use a wheelchair." Charles Seymour’s words didn’t bring Richard Roscente any sense of relief. "A wheelchair... My father... sigh... I’ll try to talk to him."

With his father’s temperament, would he really be willing to sit in a wheelchair for the rest of his life?

"Will my father still be able to walk?" Richard Roscente asked.

"He can walk." Charles Seymour nodded, giving his assurance. "He’ll just tire easily."

"Moderate daily activity is fine, but don’t overdo it." From Charles Seymour’s words, Richard Roscente understood.

The outcome was a bit harsh, but it was still better than losing his father’s life.

"Thank you." Richard Roscente offered his sincere thanks.